Three Days Late
by Non-Serious Seriousness
Summary: Rodney's three days late...but now he's back. And now that Carson knows the true reason, it isn't so bad. McBeck slash. one-shot.


He looks stressed when he's asleep. Like he never truly fell deeply, and just waits, for something. Someone. I can't help but watch him for a moment. It's jarring, often as not, to go from off-world back to Atlantis, and all that is familiar. All that is loved.

He should be peaceful, everyone here deserves at least sleep's respite, whenever they can get it. Yet there he is, tossing and turning. Granted, if I had reversed positions, and he was three days over due, without comms, I would be anxious too.

No, that's not true, I would be worried sick. Try to loose myself in figuring out ancient technology, and succeed only in blowing something up. The only way I'd sleep would be to knock myself out, and I know that kind of sleep isn't restful.

In the dim lights I move to sit on the bed, whacking my leg on the frame and barely managing to stifle my reaction. I glare down instead, wishing all manor of punishment on it. Then I make sure to look up at him, checking that he's still asleep. Some rest is better than none, I guess. I sit lightly on the side of the bed, still watching him, admiring him.

We'd finally found the gate late at night…very late. With it open, we established comms, and as much as I would have loved to see him there…it had been around one in Atlantis. Even though the people there were used to early hours, late nights, I still didn't want someone to wake him up. None of us were injured, anyways, not in the least. Just afflicted with exhaustion and frustration.

As I watch, he starts tossing more in my direction, and before I realize it, he sits up violently. Nearly hitting me in the process.

I look at his face, worried. Pale, breathing heavily, with dark circles under his eyes. Almost without realizing it, I reach out with my hand to cup his face; only with him do I ever feel such impulses. Romantic urges, as he calls them. Smiling when he catches me.

Instead of looking at the dark metal wall, he instead jerks and stares at me, looking very startled. His hand flies to mine, as if to check that I was really here. "Oh my god…" I saw the look of relief with no little guilt. That he'd been so worried over one silly mistake…

"For you, I could be. I for one, have no objections being called a god. Though that didn't turn out very well for the ori. I wouldn't try to make you my slave."

It looked like he wanted to say a million things, but I could guess so I didn't give him a chance to ask and instead pulled him forward. Three days was honestly too long to be separated from him. Kissing him was always sweet, that was how he liked it…but this kiss held just a hint of desperation. I was dead sent on completely erasing that, now.

We broke apart to catch our breath, and he brought both hands up to cup my face, bringing our foreheads together. "You're back. You're really back," he whispered.

"You can't get rid of me that easily, Carson."

He dropped a hand down my back, settling on my hip, I shivered. He's a very good multi-tasker.

"No one is hurt are they?" He said in a tone that implied he directed that more towards me than the rest of the team. And also implied that he did, in fact, expect me to be hurt. I'll be the first to admit I wasn't very good about that after the first few weeks I realized I loved him…but honestly. A little respect couldn't hurt.

"No, _no_ one is hurt. Just a few band-aid solvable cuts."

"So then what exactly delayed you?"

"It moves. The city we were taken to on that planet, and we got disoriented…couldn't find our way back to the gate, and there was some kind of field that their technology emitted that messed with our comm systems." I say it nonchalantly, but it bugs me that the most I can do is 'some kind.' I only had a few hours, but that should have been more than enough. I've cracked ancient technology more complicated in much less time.

Not unexpectedly, he laughs, breaking away from me and flopping down, holding his sides. "You got lost. Oh, Sheppard is never going to live this one down. _You_ are not going to live that down."

"Yes, yes. Thank you so much for that. If you're quite done…"

"I'm sorry luv. I'm just glad you're back." When he stares at me like that, I cannot help but shiver, and think (my last coherent thought for hours, usually) that I love him so much. That I want to keep coming home for him, to him. That I want to keep him, period.

Him and his adorable accent.


End file.
